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As you may be able to tell, I’ve been raiding the corpses of my old dead poems to feed my blog.

I found this in a document marked “Exercise” in a folder indicating it was from a 2005 workshop with Arlitia Jones the playwright and bestest workshop teacher in the West.

I don’t remember the exercise that produced this list. I’m almost certain I wrote it. 3, 12, and 18 sure sound like me. (If not, and someone knows what it is, correct me). But some of them made me laugh. 15 sounds like the title of a blues song. Enjoy!

a spider on an old man’s beard is like a swallow in a nest

the oars on the boat rowed as if unmanned

nothing was the same, now that it was forever.

the wino took to coma like merlot

the dice rolled out of the cup like Leonard to a hot pussy

a child in sunshine is like a bean in water

puffy clouds in your glass of wine are foaming over in your head

bed sheets like muscles stretched taut over bone

the fog plumed through the gunshot holes in the train windows like a gambler’s cigar smoke

the gray honor walked up the satin plank as if transfixed by light

canceled checks in the abandoned boat seemed to long for currency

if I should wake before I die, I pray I get some apple pie

Alannah poured coffee down her throat as if drowning the donuts might negate their calories

you mine rocks from a quarry. What you get from a quandary is nothing

up is like down when down feels right

Marlene dangled the parson from her question as if…

she held her life in her own hands as if it were fragile

no, no a thousand times no, he said, his hand a battle ax of sincerity

the solution was hydrochloric acid; the problem was therefore how to kill Gillian